


Life Effect

by flavouredcheese



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-02
Updated: 2012-10-01
Packaged: 2017-11-15 11:12:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flavouredcheese/pseuds/flavouredcheese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A marriage of honour and of obligation which was built up, brick by brick, and grew into love. How did Jon Snow affect this relationship? [ for okami_no_yume on got_exchange on livejournal ]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Ned and Catelyn's relationship. Theirs was a marriage of obligation and honor that slowly grew to love. Also, how Jon Snow affected their relationship after Ned brought him home, and Ned having to lie to his wife about Jon's true parentage of Rhaegar/Lyanna.
> 
> i did not beta or proof read it properly, though i did my best to catch all my mistakes before i submitted it for the exchange, so forgive the grammar and the spelling if you come across any.
> 
> anyway yeah ; U ; woop . thanks for reading this in advance!

i.

 

She was his wife now. From the moment he fastened the grey cloak of the Starks upon her shoulders; from the moment the septon raised his voice and declared them legally wed in the eyes of all the Gods, both old and the new; she was his wife, and he, her husband. 

But to his mind ( and perhaps his heart ) she was not his wife. No, she was a stranger whom he had just met that morning. He knew nothing about her, save her name, the family from whence she came and the fact that he had to marry her in his brother's place. He wondered what she thought of that. If she had loved Brandon and if she grieved for him.  
   
More importantly, did she think of him as a bad substitute for Brandon? Was she disappointed?

A small sacrifice, Jon had said. A small sacrifice for a greater purpose. 

He knew that, of course. He knew why he had to marry her- why they both had to marry the daughters of Hoster Tully. For him, it was to preserve his family's honour and uphold the promise that his father and brother had made.  
   
For them, however, it was to secure the alliance and the allegiance of the Riverlands for Robert, for his rebellion, and for their cause. 

Throughout the entirety of the feast, he only looked up from his plate and goblet half a dozen times. Thrice, although briefly, at her, his wife. He reminded himself- once at Jon and his bride, once at Lord Tully when he spoke, and once more when someone called for the bedding.

He tensed and froze then, and he could feel her do the same beside him. The chorus of voices and shouts rose and filled the hall, rumbling through the stone walls. He caught several bawdy jests as well as a few wild suggestions from amongst the chanting and his jaws ground against each other as he tried to stop himself from turning red. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than the ability to disappear; to sink into the floor and to be forgotten. But, hesitantly, he allowed himself to be pulled to his feet and ushered off the dais, out the hall and up to the bedchamber as he tried his best to ignore the drunken calls and jokes. 

Turning to his wife once more, he saw that she was bearing with the situation far better than he was. Even as they pulled and tugged at her dress, even when Jory tore it, she kept her head high and smiled politely, the blush that coloured her cheeks being the only sign of her being as nervous and anxious as he was.

The bedding itself was awkward; where neither of them wanted to be the one to make the first move. As though dancing to the wrong song, to the wrong beat and rhythm. Like facing a new foe in battle, most of the time was spent on exploring and testing the other, trying to understand each other. They kissed and they whispered. Hesitant kisses and feather light touches drifting over cool naked skin beneath the blankets and furs. 

She was beautiful, he thought. Beautiful and afraid. 

He asked her why, to which her only reply was "Please, my lord, be gentle."

Nodding then, he promised her that he will treat her with respect and care, and that he will not take her if she did not wish him to, if she was not ready. She fell silent at that, but only for a moment before shaking her head and telling him that she was ready and that it was her duty- their duty.

That night he took her maidenhood; out of duty, not passion; out of obligation, not love. If there were tears on her face, he didn't see them, the candle light too dim and the moon was hidden behind clouds. She had blue eyes, he realised, although he knew that she did. But they were dark then; this being the first time that he properly looked at them, and what he found... made his throat tighten and his heart skip in his chest.

When they finished and finally settled against their pillows, laying on opposite sides of their wedding bed, he apologised. 

At dawn the next morning, Ned wondered if either of them had slept.

 

\--

 

The war had been long, exhausting, draining. He felt old and worn but he must go on. That was what he told himself, what he keeps telling himself. It was a vow he made to himself every morning when he woke, until it became a kind of mantra he repeated again and again in his head when he and his blade was covered in blood and when he stepped over bodies and corpses and everything else that remained of a battle fought. 

Men looked to him as their leader and he wished that they didn't. It was a burden, a heavy weight to bear, one that his shoulders were not accustomed to. That was Brandon. He would have lead as easily as he would breathe, he would have loved the singer's songs, he would have basked in the praises of lords and he would have grinned whenever he hears his men cheering his name. But not he. 

Despite that, after every battle, after each passing day, he found more and more men falling silent to listen to him whenever he speaks, he found more men agreeing with him and obeying him, nodding their heads as he passed, smiling and saluting whenever they saw him. He wished that they didn't do that, but it was too late. They had placed their trust and their lives in his hands and they were like water, like sand, and he feared that if he made a mistake, if he gave the wrong command or made an ill timed decision, he would be betraying that trust and those lives will be lost, slipped through his fingers, uncaught, falling to the blood drenched earth. 

There were days where ravens would arrive and a page will deliver him a letter from Benjen, from Robert and sometimes, from her. Her words were polite, proper and on her first letter, she wrote that her moonblood had not come in two months and that she was sure she was with child. She then ended the letter with a hope that he will return to meet his child. 

It had been almost a year now since he last saw her, since they stood at the courtyard of Riverrun, bidding each other good bye and as he lead his host to Kings Landing, racing down the Kingsroad, he wondered if she had given birth, if so, does she still live? And what of their babe? Ravens found him less often now, and if there was any news written to him, it had not reached him. In some ways, he was glad to be kept in ignorance. He didn't know what he would feel if he found that he was a father to a son, or a daughter. Would he be more careful? Would he be more cautious? Fear filled him then, when he realised, not for the first time, that if he failed, if this rebellion failed, his wife and child would be murdered and that fear quickly turned into determination, the urge to protect them even though they were both strangers to him. Was that love? Or obligation?

When he arrived at the Kings Gate, he found it open. Lannisters had arrived before him and they have sacked the city in the name of Robert, or so it seemed. Wary and guarded, he made his way down the streets and up to the Red Keep, to end this war, to put an end to the slaughtering of innocents. It was enough. Enough killing. Enough. 

Hoof-falls rang and echoed dully across the throne room. It was too quiet here. Too still. From here, you can almost believe that there was never a war to begin with. His father, his brother were both murdered here. Here. He saw how his father might have been cooked in his own armour. He saw how Brandon might have been strangled to death trying to save him. He heard them. He saw their faces, faces constructed from memory and imagination, twist in agony, in torment. His father. His brother. Here.

As he neared the iron throne, he saw that it was not Aerys who sat on Aegon's seat, no, the Mad King was on the floor, lying on a pool of his own blood. Sitting on the throne, was Jaime Lannister, dressed and armed in golden armour and blade, a white cloak fastened at his shoulders, the bottom of which was crusted in brown-red.

Lannister grinned at him and stood, quipped that he was simply keeping the throne warm before leaving the hall. He was surprised that the boy did not claim the crown as his or his father's. The Lannisters were in a position where they could have every man woman and child swearing fealty to them, but they decided to let that opportunity pass. Why? 

It was not long until Robert arrived, it had been just past moonrise. Tywin Lannister entered the hall as well, though by a different door. Robert smiled at Ned, clapped his shoulder before stepping over Aerys's corpse and taking his seat on the Iron Throne. That ws when Tywin came forward and laid two bundles of Lannister red cloaks at his feet. Ned frowned, but Robert raised a brow, reaching down to pull at the cloth.

The Lord of Casterly Rock then lowered himself onto one knee and Ned found himself cursing through his teeth. Children. A girl and a babe. The princess and the prince. She can't have been more than five years old, yet she was wrapped in a cloak drenched so heavily in blood that not even Lannister crimson can conceal, whilst her brother- her brother was perhaps only a month short of a year old, his head smashed in, bits of skull and brain and blood hid what remained of his face. Murdered. Along with their mother. What if that had been his children? If it had been Catelyn? Ned closed his eyes and turned away.

Robert spoke, and Ned looked up and he saw that his friend was not smiling, but was not seem upset either. It was a strange look that he made, a grim sort of approval and one of cruel satisfaction. Then he asked of the Prince Viserys and the Queen, who, Ned had heard was big with child, a Targaryen Robert said he had to make sure never lives, "This was murder," Ned told him, before he could continue, "They are babes, for Godssakes!"

" This was war," Robert snapped in reply, "And I see no babes, only dragonspawn," They argued at length that night, neither one willing to back down, even as Jon came and tried to calm them. How could he stand for the murder of children and babes? Wasn't that what they went to war for? To stop the murder of innocents? Robert sent his assassins and knights after Queen Rhaella and her son to murder them, them and that unborn child that the queen carried in her belly. That was all Ned could stand to bear and stormed out of the hall before finding his horse and leading his men south to the Stormlands.

When the Tyrells and the Redwyns dipped their banners and swore their allegiance to Robert. What he saw when he entered Storm's End was gruesome and made his stomach turn. All who remained there were starved to their bones, gaunt and haunted. Robert's brothers, Stannis who had lead and defended the castle, and Renly, a child of three, met them at the gates. It was there that he received a raven from Varys the Spider which said that Lyanna was brought by Rhaegar to a place in the Dornish mountains, the Tower of Joy, it was called. 

Ned rode out immediately, leaving his men and supplies in Storm's End, taking only six other men with him, Howland Reed, a crannogman he met in Harrenhall, Willam Dustin, who was Brandon's closest friend, Martyn Cassel, Ethan GLover, Theo Wull and Mart Ryswell, all who fought by his side in every battle since the start of the war and whom he trusted his life with. He swore never to forget their names.

There, in the crumbling tower, stood three of Aerys's Kingsguards, Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, Ser Oswald Whent and Gerold Hightower, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. They regarded them coolly, with eyes that were somber and solemn. Good men, Ned thought, great men. Why did it have to come to this?

He looked up when heard Lyanna scream his name. 

Then, the three drew their blades and Ned drew his. 

 

\---

 

The stairs seemed endless and his legs felt so weak. He was bleeding somewhere, his clothes were damp and warm with blood, but he was not dying, at least, he did not think that he was. Just tired. Exhausted, but he kept going. Up and up. Lyanna had stopped calling for him. It was quiet now. Everything was quiet now. Still and calm and unmoving, all but him.

There was a door. Half open. He forced himself up the last three steps and pushed through. 

The first thing that met him was the sweet scent of roses, mixed strangely with the sour smell of blood. She was on the bed, her skin pale, her eyes closed, and for a moment, he thought she had passed, until her chest raised ever so slightly to take a breath. Then, in her arms, he saw was a bundle of white and grey cloth. He hurried to her, managing only to croak out her name as he sat at the edge of the mattress. Her eyes flickered open and she smiled faintly at him. He told her that she was safe now, that she will be all right and that he will take her home. Her smile grew, but not happier, no, it was sadder now. Wistful and longing. 

The bundle moved and there was a soft cry. A babe.

" Promise me," She whispered and she moved the bundle towards him, " Promise me," She repeated, weaker this time as he pushed it into his hands. The babe had his eyes squeezed shut and gave a cough. This child.. This child was Rhaegar's. This babe was a Targaryen. Robert will... Robert... " Promise me," 

He looked to her once again. His eyes stung. She was fading. His stubborn and willful little sister. Why? Why..? He reached for her hand and squeezed it. It was cold. He told her not to speak like that. He told her that she will live through this, but all she said was, " Promise me, Ned," The babe squirmed in his arms and he turned to him. No- This child was Lyanna's. He was a Stark.

He nodded and she smiled, now happy, truly happy, closed her eyes and died.

 

\---

 

Howland was the one who pulled him away, but he knew that only because he told him that he did. He couldn't remember... He only remembered the blood and the roses and waking to watch the sun rise over the horizon. Lya... Beside him was the babe- his nephew, bundled and wrapped in white and grey wool. He was asleep, he saw, and was glad for it. Carefully, he pulled the blanket tighter around the babe and stood. Howland was already awake, and he was lifting stones into a pile and Ned quickly realised that he was planning to build cairns for the dead. He hurried to help him though he found little strength in his arms. Howland asked him what he planned to do with the babe, to which Ned only shook his head tiredly. 

He could not abandon the child. He promised Lya. Even if she did not ask it of him, he would have still taken care of the boy, protected him... but... How can he hide this from Robert? If Robert found out that the child was from Rhaegar and Lyanna, he will not waste a moment's thought to kill him, and what of the rest of the Kingdoms? If they hated the Targaryens, they would hunt him. If they remained loyal to the Dragons, they would hail him as King.. no that was not the worst of it. If people found out the truth of the boy's blood, they would use him.

He cannot have his nephew to suffer that fate.

But what can he do?

He helped Howland carry the bodies from the tower, first, their own comrades, Theo, Martyn and Willam, and after, they burried Ethan and Mark. Then, they laid to rest Arthur, Gerold and Oswald, cleaning their armour as best they could from the blood before lowering the stones above them. All swords remained with their masters, save Dawn, who's light seemed to dim since Arthur's death. Ned vowed that he will return it to Starfall, to Ashara and her family. They would not want their family sword to rust beneath the ground. Finally, he and Howland put their shields into the ground as headstones and markers for the ones who carried them into battle. Then, Ned climbed up to the room at the top of the tower and as gently as he could, carried his little sister down. But he did not place her to be buried beneath loose stones- no- He unfastened his own cloak from his shoulders and covered her with it. 

He told Howland that she will be buried amongst their brother and father and their ancestors beneath Winterfell. The crannogman? was quiet for a while and nodded. Ned knew why he hesitated. It would take months for them to ride back to Winterfell and by then Lya... They agreed that they would go to the Sept of the nearest town, and have the Silent Sisters care and treat her body for the journey. 

They spent the rest of their morning desperately trying to calm the babe who was screaming and squalling in his swaddling clothes and as soon as he was quiet, Ned helped Howland tie Lyanna's body to Theo's palfrey. She deserved better than that, Ned thought, but he knew that he did not have the skill nor the wood to make a cart or a sled they can pull across the desert and the babe was hungry. 

They found a village just before sun down. It had a small Sept and a trio of silent sisters whom they gave Lyanna to. There was also a wet nurse there, a woman named Wylla whom they gave the babe to. The boy did not look like a Targaryen at all. He had the dark hair and the steel grey eyes of the Starks. Even his face showed no trace of any bloodline save the Starks. That was it. He could care for the babe as his son, that way Robert wo- No, if he did, then the child will have the name Snow. A bastard. He would have to live with the shame of being a bastard... but there was no way he could make him a true born... and everyone in the Seven Kingdoms will think that he had fathered a bastard. Then, he remembered his wife, and the child that she bore. Their child. What will she think of him and the babe? No, he would bear the shame and dishonour if it meant saving his nephew's life. He will raise him in Winterfell, amongst his own true born children and he will protect him from the shame of being a bastard as best as he can. 

When Wylla returned and placed the babe in his arms, she asked that if he was his son, to which Ned replied, yes. 

The lie tasted queer on his tongue, but he forced himself to swallow it and told himself that he would grow used to it soon enough. He told Howland the next day and asked him to keep this secret and he said that he would take it to his grave and help the boy for as long as he is able to, for Lyanna, the maiden who helped him that morning in Harrenhall, for her memory. Ned gave his friend a smile and thanked him.

They stayed in that village for a week until Lyanna's body was nothing more than bone and ash before travelling east, to Starfall. Wylla went with them, caring for the babe who Howland has been suggesting names for, most of them were in jest and in good nature however, and Ned paid little mind to it. It also felt it wrong of him to name a child that was not his.

Starfall was a beautiful place, at least, that was what he deemed. The sea was close here. He smelt the salt in the water and heard the wind against rock and stone. He was allowed through the gates and showed inside to Lady Ashara's chambers as she did not wish to leave her room. She was every bit as fair as he remembered but she was thinner now and when she turned to him, he saw that her once haunting violet eyes were dull and empty. 

She managed a smile and asked if he was well. He told her that he was exhausted and he hated war. She nodded and said nothing else in reply. After a long silence, she spoke, " I lost her," She said and when Ned asked who it was, Ashara shut her eyes and shook her head, gripping at her silk dress at her waist. That was when the maester placed his hand on Ned's shoulder and murmured that it was time for them to leave her.

That night after supper, he returned Dawn to the Ashara's elder brother but not before telling him what had happened in that Tower of Joy. He told him that he was the one who killed Arthur, and he apologised for it. The man was courteous enough to not run him through as soon as Dawn was in his hands, but Ned knew that he should not stay longer than he had to and by sunrise the next morning, they had put Starfall three miles behind them. They rode Northwards, avoiding the main roads. The war may be over, but bandits were still as rampant as ever, former soldiers now preying on those displaced by the fighting. 

At Highgarden, he received a raven from Catelyn, dated and written by a few months prior to his reading. She wrote that she had given birth to their son and she asked what he wished to name him. He had stared at the question for a long while before finally dipping his quill into the ink pot and wrote that Robb was a good name. He then wrote that Lyanna had died and that he is taking her bones to be buried in Winterfell. He did not tell her of the babe. He did not know if he could trust her with that information. Not yet. She was his wife and the mother to his child, but she was still a stranger. He added that he will return to her soon and asked her to travel to Winterfell ahead of him.

He sealed the scroll and sent it up to the rookery and watched the bird fly, then, he went downstairs and checked on Wylla and his nephew. Jon, he decided when he held the babe in his arms. Jon. 

Then Wylla told him that she has heard that Lady Ashara, out of grief and sadness, had thrown herself into the sea. 

 

\---

He followed the Roseroad to Kings Landing, feeling it safe enough to travel on now that law was returning to the land. Robert met them at the gate, a golden crown of antlers rested atop his brow. Ned showed him Lyanna and they quarreled for a while of where she should be buried. He then told him that she wished to be buried in Winterfell and Robert relented, too grieved to argue. He then went on to rant that the Prince and the Queen had escaped to the Free Cities and vowed to hunt and kill every Targaryen that still lived on this earth. 

There was a feast that night, prior to which Ned was careful to have Wylla and Jon hidden away, though he doubted that they were a secret. He knew that word had preceded him and spread that he had fathered a bastard. They never spoke of it in his presence of course, but as he sat there beside his friend and king, he saw the eyes and the judgement, the accusation in them, but he forced himself to remain in his seat and take every single disapproving look that was thrown at him. It was good that the lie had set, he told himself. He wondered if Catelyn had heard of this. She probably has. Will she hate him for it?

He found himself thinking more and more of his wife and son as he rode up the Kingsroad. He feared what she would think of him? What she would feel about him, and what of his son, and his future children? Will they hate Jon? Will they push him away? Think him unworthy of even their scorn? If he could suffer the contempt of strangers, why did he dread the judgement of Catelyn and Robb?

He bid Howland farewell at the Neck and thanked him for everything. Ned had grown close to the little crannogman throughout their journey and he promised himself that he would not forget the man. 

The remainder of the journey was harder but he gladly received the Northern snow. It was a sign that he was truly home. Wylla grew uncomfortable in the cold, but Jon slept more soundly in the chill. Ned smiled at that. The babe was definitely more Stark than Targaryen.

Winterfell greeted him with a strange warmness. The sight of white blanketing and piling over its great stone roofs and towers made his heart sweet in his chest and a smile came to his face, unbidden but welcome. Then, he realised that he was not coming home as Ned Stark, but as the Lord of Winterfell. 

No, that wasn't right. It can't be. He was Rickard Stark's second son. He cannot be the Lord of Winterfell. That was Brandon. It had always been Brandon. He was always meant to be Lord, not he, never he. He was a soldier, all he was meant to do was to follow... but... Brandon was dead now and so was their father and their sister. Only Benjen remained, but as he paused atop a hill to look upon his home, an emptiness grew within him and his throat tightened. 

Benjen and Ser Rodrik Cassel rode out to meet them, followed by a dozen more riders whose helms hid their faces from view and recognition. Ben had grown in the last year, once and three now, already, he had the look of a man twice his age, or that was how it seemed by the way he sat straight in his saddle. He showed control and grace and a type of agility not common for a boy his age. Ned wondered if Ben would be a better Lord than he. 

But all his thoughts were quickly forgotten when his little brother came closer and he saw the same cheer in his smile, unchanged from the days of their childhood together, unchanged from when they were together in Harrenhall, as if untouched by war, and for that, Ned was relieved. 

His household lowered themselves onto their knees as he came through the gates and he was at a loss of what to do or say to them. So he made himself smile and nod and helped his castellan to his feet. That was when he saw her. 

Her auburn hair tied in an intricate braid behind her and she looked just as she did at their wedding. 

She looked beautiful.

He went to her and she bowed her head and said, " My Lord," 

" My Lady," he replied and kissed her hand.

She then turned and a nurse placed a babe wrapped tight in swaddling clothes in her arms. Robb. She gave him a small, faint smile and showed their son to him. The boy had the Tully's red-brown hair and when he opened his eyes to coo at him, Ned saw that he had Catelyn's sky blue eyes. He took his son into his hands and held him for a while. His son. He was happy. He was afraid. Will he be a good father to him? Will be able to teach him to become a good man? To guard him against any harm? Robb squirmed and gurgled at him and Ned laughed and told his wife, " He is amazing. Thank you," She blushed then, and he kissed Robb's brow before carefully, slowly, moving him back into her arms.

 

\--

 

The feast was dizzying and his found his appetite dry though he thought he would be grateful for properly roasted and seasoned meat after such a long journey, after such a draining war. He forced himself to take a small piece of each course though, simply to not seem rude. As for drink, he only took a single cup and shared it with his wife, who did not seem to eager on the eating either. 

He was told by Maester Luwin that Catelyn had organised this feast, and that she had been a great help around the castle since she arrived almost a month ago and it would seem that she is adapting quite well into her new home. 

It was well into the night when the raucous laughing and booming cheer faded and dulled and he and his wife finally deemed it polite to retreat from the hall. Once they were alone, in the corridor half way to her chambers, he took a breath and stopped her. He then asked her to follow him to his father's solar- His solar. She did, with no more than a raised brow and a nod. 

Ned had told Wylla to keep herself and Jon out of sight and as far as he could tell, she had not been noticed by anyone. That was the only single advantage of the feast; Wylla lost herself easily within the crowd.

First, he introduced her to Catelyn and told her what she was, a wet nurse. His wife then told him that neither she nor Robb needed a wet nurse and Ned forced himself to steady when he told her that Wylla was here not to nurse Robb. He then nodded at the dornishwoman and she turned to bring Jon in. The babe was asleep as he usually is and a part of him hoped that Catelyn would take to him easier like this than if he was wailing. He willed his jaws to loosen and said, " This... is my son. This is Jon,"

He could not read her face, nor the emotion that showed in her eyes. It was a sort of blankness, perhaps shock, perhaps disinterest, he did not know. Then, with a voice a still and cool voice, she asked, " Who?" and Ned knew what she had meant by that one word.

" It doesn't matter," He answered as evenly as he could, though it came out cold. Another lie. One after the next. One atop the other. Piling and piling. Will it ever end? 

" Did you love her?"

Yes, " No,"

" Is she still alive?"

I wish she was, " No,"

" What will you do with him?" 

" Raise him," He said, " With Robb,"

Anger flashed in those blue eyes, " No," 

" Jon will be raised here in Winterfell," He made himself sound final. He did not want to drag this any longer than he had to. 

" So be it," Her lips pursed into a thin line, almost a smile, but those eyes pierced through him as she said, " You will raise your son and I will raise mine,"


	2. ii

ii.

 

It was not long until word was whispered into every ear in Winterfell, and even as he walked through the corridors, passing servants who he knew would go back to gossiping as soon as he turned the corner. It was becoming easier to bear though, and even he began to think of Jon as his own son. 

He saw Jon daily, in a room he had asked to be his nursery. It was in the room beside Robb's despite Catelyn's silent protest. Jon was awake more often now, turning his head, looking around, staring at cooing at everything. Robb who was a few months older, was far more active and curious. Already he was learning to roll onto his stomach and lift himself onto his hands and knees. Soon he will be crawling, Maester Luwin told him, and when that happens, it would be harder to keep track of him. 

Catelyn spent most of her time with Robb, feeding and playing with him. She spoke to him too and Ned thought that the reason why the boy babbled so much, trying to imitate and replicate the sounds she made. It won't be long before he learns how to speak. 

One morning, he decided to visit Robb as his duties for the day has been seen to. He found Catelyn pacing around the room, humming and rocking their son to sleep, but the boy was restless and continued to struggle in her arms. That was strange, even for Robb. He always had a mild temper and was easily quieted despite his energy. 

Robb then burst into tears, screaming and Ned hurried inside offering to hold him. Catelyn hesitated, but only for a moment. She moved Robb into his arms, as gently as she could and told him that Robb may be falling sick. She touched the boy's forehead and the lines on her brow deepened. Ned mirrored her, feeling the babe's skin. It was cool. It was not a fever. 

" I will have Maester Luwin see to him," He told her, only just managing to wrap Robb once again in his swaddling clothes, " He will be fine," He did not know why he said that. He knew that babes died of sickness and disease more times than not, and that terrified him. He did not know if they would lose their only son. He did not know if Robb will live through this illness. He did not know, yet he said that he would.

She followed him to the turret. They were both silent, listening, helpless, to their son's wails echoing against the stone. The Maester opened his door and with one look at the babe, let them inside and asked to see the boy. He studied Robb and it did not take long before he turned around and vanished behind his stores of dried spices and glass vials. He emerged several minutes later with a pot of what smelt like herbed tea. 

They waited for the drink to cool ( Catelyn had taken Robb into her arms and rocking him once again ) and once Maester Luwin judged it lukewarm, poured an ounce of it into a cup and slowly poured it into Robb's mouth. He told them to return four times every day and that there was nothing to worry about, " The babe simply has an upset stomach," He said, smiling, amused at their panic.

 

\---

 

It had been almost a year since the war's end. Most agreed that the war had ended at the sack of Kings Landing, that the war had ended the moment Robert sat on the Iron Throne, but Ned dated the end on that night, when his sister passed ( but do wars truly ever end? he wondered ). 

He was in the crypts, standing before the stone carvings of his father, his brother and his sister. He knew that he had gone against tradition when he decided on having both Brandon and Lyanna's impressions to be cut from rock. Only the Kings of Winter and Lords of Winterfell were allowed the honour, but in his mind they deserved it, as much as their father and his fathers before him. Thankfully, the stone mason loved his brother and sister and did not protest in making statues for their tombs.

He came here everyday, before dawn, before going to the Godswood, hoping for peace and solitude amongst the dead. Today, he came with a heavy heart and a burdened mind and he found the quiet and the isolation only resulted in anxiety.

Catelyn had come to him the night before and they dined together in his solar. Their conversation was idle, even comfortable. Silence fell often between them, however, but it was no stranger to them. That night, she asked about Jon, about his mother. She asked if the woman who bore Jon was Ashara Dayne.

Ned found himself angered at the name and told her to never ask him of Jon's mother again. Must Ashara's name and honour be soiled by this lie as well? His voice must have been raised, or his words harsh and sharp as his wife looked at him in both shock and defiance, but she did not pursue the subject any further. He immediately apologised. He knew how frustrating it was for her and he hated himself for keeping this lie from her. It was suffocating to see her hate him, hate Jon for what she thought Ned had done. To her mind, he has betrayed their vows, her trust and her. 

He wished that he could confide the truth in her, be done with this farce and perhaps, if she learns that he did not father Jon, she will be able to love the boy and he will have someone for a mother, but can he trust her? Can he trust her to keep this to her self and not to tell another soul? Will she lay her life down to keep this secret buried and to protect Jon from Robert? No. He will not put her in that position, he cannot allow her to be punished.

The Godswood was cool, but never cold. Steam wafted from the springs, filling the air with thick fog, but he knew his way too well and found the hearttree easily. He sat at its base, on its root under the shelter of those blood red leaves. There, he prayed and hoped that one day Catelyn will be able to forgive him and find it in her heart to love Jon as much as she loved Robb. 

 

\---

It had been several days since he had snapped at her, and while they saw one another at breakfast or at dinner, they rarely spoke and when they did, it was forced and mundane. He had sent the cook, who brought Ashara's name to Catelyn, away to work for the Cerwyns, but that did not solve the problem between them. She still would not be in the same room with Jon. He knew that what she resented was not that she thought he had fathered a child with another woman, or even that he had betrayed her trust, but the fact that Jon was being raised in Winterfell alongside Robb and that he was always present. 

Ned tried to be fair to both the boys. He played with them both and had the nannies make sure that they spent some time with eachother every day. They were close, Robb shared his toys with Jon and Jon, in turn, would always allow Robb to hold a stuffed wolf that was Jon's only possession. They were too young to understand, he thought, Robb does not yet know that Jon was not born from the same mother as he. What would happen if the day comes when he does understand? Will he start to ignore Jon? Hate him? What of Jon; will he hate the man he believed to be his father? 

Maester Luwin says that spring will be upon them soon, but for a while, Ned was more sceptical than relieved. He remembered the year of False Spring and the Winter that followed it. Winter was more than snow, it was more than the cold and the ice. It was darkness, torment, death. The war was Winter. 

He remembered how he felt as he entered Winterfell as its Lord. He remembered thinking to himself that he would never be as great of a Lord as his father or as his brother would have been. He did swear, however, that he would do his best to serve WInterfell as best as he could. But his best wasn't enough. It has been a year and he was still learning and struggling. The Lords of the North have come to swear fealty to him and he listened, and did all he could to help and answer to their pleas. While he was told he did well enough in ruling the North, he had his troubles keeping his own household in order.

There had been a thief stealing from the storage and Winterfell found itself extremely short on grain and wheat, and he sat down for hours with Ser Rodrik and Maester Luwin trying to decide how best to allocate and ration what remained of their food. By the end of it, they came to no conclusion and were more tired than they were before.

He stayed in the study until late into the night, going through the numbers when there was a knock on the door. Catelyn came in, bringing him his supper and asked him to not work too hard. He shook his head and told her that there was not enough to last Winterfell and the Winter town until summer. She set the tray aside and went to the desk and studied the accounts.

She then asked if there was any way for the food stores to be replenished and he answered that not until at least the ice thaws on the fields and that will take a year, more if they were unlucky. She then said that spring will come earlier in the south, and will be harvesting before the North snow melts. She said that food can be brought in by trade, and the Riverlands will have more than enough to do so. It would be expensive, he told her and they still needed the stores to last the year. 

She then calculated the numbers again and found that they did not make sense, another thief was hiding the food; a years worth if they used it properly. She then set to correcting the accounts and together, they managed to set the measures for the rations for them and their people, sufficient enough to last them a year, maybe more.

They found both thieves that week, who were both looking to sell the grains and wheat at a high price as soon as people began to starve. He had them return all they had stolen and jailed them. 

 

\--

 

They were talking again. He looked to her for advice, for her opinions and her thoughts and she helped him as best as she could. She was patient, he found and while she was not the most gentle of teachers, he learnt quickly from her. In court, she would sit beside him and they would decide on action and punishment together. 

Soon, the subjects of their conversations started to move away from matters of governance. They began to speak freely and the polite, careful tone faded into one that was used between close friends. 

It was spring. The maesters were right. The snow melted and the ice thawed and he was glad.

One morning, whilst they were at Torrhen's Square, they took a stroll along the lake shores, agreeing that it would be good to spend sometime amongst the green and Ned thought that the sight and sound of lapping water would quell her home-sickness. She had been away from Riverrun for almost two years now and there were times where he would sense her yearning for the rolling greens and the crystal blue rivers of her lands though she does not show or speak of it.

The lake was beautiful under the spring sky and the rhythm of their feet falling upon rock and sand harmonised with the soft, light sounds of the water stirring with the wind and the songs of the birds. Their fingers had wandered and found each other, loosely twined and comfortable at the touch and warmth of the other's skin.

She was beautiful. 

Her hair flowed freely behind her, red in the sun. She had given up on dressing her hair in the southern styles today as he kept picking and undoing her braids earlier in their room. She called him 'infuriatingly endearing' before brushing away the curls the braids have left, a smile playing in her eyes.

She walked barefoot, and so did he. They kept close to the water's edge and she did not seem to mind as the water's chill touched her toes and washed her ankles. She told him of her days as a child, swimming in the rivers and racing her sister to the next bend. She told him that she felt most at home when she was in the water. She loved it. To her, she said, no matter how cold the waters were, they would always feel warm.

She then bit her lip and gave him a nervous smile, saying that she sounded silly. He laughed and told her that he felt the same about the snow and stepped into the water beside her. 

 

\--

 

Her mouth was hot. They parted for air. That was hot too. But he didn't mind. It was nice. 

He felt the warmth beneath her skin, the heat inside her flesh. They were so close now. Nothing was between them. 

He combed his fingers through her hair and found that he missed her lips and her tongue. 

She must have sensed that, or perhaps she felt the same, because she smiled and kissed him.

His heart beat and raced and drummed in his chest, in his ears, in his head. Faster and faster. Louder. Louder.

It was deafening, suffocating, dizzying, but that didn't matter, nothing mattered anymore, except her. Just her.

He felt her shudder as she renewed their kiss. Her breath burning against his skin. 

He kissed her neck and whispered her name against her ear. Again and again.

Her fingers ran down his chest, tracing the scars, memorising them. She bent down and kissed those too. 

Everything fit. Everything was right. 

He loved her. 

 

\---

 

The nannies for both boys have fallen ill and have been away for the week, fearing that they would pass the sickness to them. Since then, Cat has been taking full responsibility of Robb, while he; Jon. Thankfully, there was less to do now than it had been a year ago. The boys have grown and were content with each other's company that they didn't demand too much attention from anyone else. When they weren't together, Ned brought Jon up to his study to keep a better eye on him as he was fond of running around and exploring the castle. He knew that Catelyn did not approve of this, but he could not ignore him. They were of the same blood after all. Once the boy started to tire and yawn, Ned helped him back down the stairs and tucked him into bed. Then, he returned to his room and continued to study the letters that have come from Kings Landing.

He was about to put the torches out when he heard a cry. It was Jon. He hurried down the stairs, but when he reached the door to the boy's room, the cries have quieted and he saw Cat give Jon his stuffed wolf and light the candle on his bedside. She told him that the Others will not come close to a fire and pulled the furs over his shoulders.

She then stands and straightens her dress, before leaving Jon and the candle.

She says nothing as she passes him and Ned smiles, hoping that his prayers have finally been answered.

 

\--

 

She told him as soon as she was sure. He remembered how nervous she looked that afternoon as they sat together in the Godswood, but she was not one to circle around the subject and beat around the bush and when the words finally sunk and registered, he hugged and kissed her and lifted her from the ground. She was yelling at him to put her down but she laughed when he spun her around. She cupped his face and kissed him.

" I love you," They said, breathless and smiling, " I love you,"

They were going to have another babe.

 

\--

 

She was in labour for five hours, said Maester Luwin when he asked him much later. Ned had stayed with her through the night, held her hand and offered what little comfort he could. He was afraid and kissed her knuckles whenever he felt the fear overtake him. She may have given birth to one child, but that was no reassurance that she would be able to live the birth of her second. She told him that she would fight for both their babe and herself because she does not want to leave their children motherless as she was, " I will be fine, love," She said, " I promise,"

She squeezed his hand and let out a cry when Maester Luwin urged her to push. Then, her breaths came short and shallow and she fell back against the pillows. He wiped her forehead and kissed her brow and told her that she was almost done. She looked to him and nodded, propping herself back up. 

She pushed and pushed and her screams were silenced only by the squalling of a babe and by Maester Luwin's gentle declaration that it was a girl. Ned kissed her, long and deep, glad and relieved, before standing, his knees aching acutely as he reached to receive the bundle from him. He then turned to her and moved their daughter into her arms. Cat smiled, tears streaming from her eyes as she saw the babe's face. She had the same blue eyes, the same red hair. She even looked like her, and she was the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. 

She coughed and gave a soft gurgle and Ned wrapped the woollen blanket closer around her, worried that the babe was cold, " Sansa," Cat whispered touching their daughter's cheek, " Her name is Sansa," 

 

\--

 

Robb was protective of Sansa and always insisted that he help carry her. Jon, on the other hand was curious but was more than happy to just peer over the crib and watch her. Sansa was sweet and cooed at everything she saw, her blue eyes bright with laughter whenever Ned held her. She would wave and babble at him and giggle whenever he kissed her cheek. 

It had been a few months since her birth and the chaos in Winterfell had finally calmed. The sun rose ever higher above the horizon now and he was told that summer will come full in the next year, or the year after the next at the very latest. Someone also told him that this summer would be long and it would last for years and years and he hoped that it was true. Summer was kinder to children, there would be plenty of food for them and they would be able to play in the fields and the warmth of the sun would keep them from freezing. He prayed that none of his children would ever feel the true cold of winter.

He woke one morning to the sound of Robb rushing into the room, climbing onto their bed and crawling, rather gracelessly, towards Sansa, who slept between them. Robb had made a doll of straw he called it Ser Knight and told her that it was actually the Dragonknight in disguise. Then, he tucked the doll beside the babe and said that Ser Knight will defend and protect her whenever he or Ned was not around before giving her a kiss on the cheek.

Cat smiled sleepily at this and kissed the top of Robb's head. The boy made a face, but hugged her all the same. Ned mussed the burst of red curls and told him that Sansa loved the doll. He grinned and crawled to him and pushed his hands against his middle, asking to get up and take him out to the stables like he promised.

Teasingly, Ned groaned and dropped back onto his pillows and turned away, shutting his eyes. Robb started to bounce on his legs and yell at him. After a minute of that, Ned finally relented and grabbed his son, wrapping his arms around him and squeezed him. Robb shrieked happily and started to squirm away and that was when Jon ran into the room and jumped onto the bed. Ned laughed and let Robb go as soon as Jon declared to help him. 

" Yes, yes, I'll take you to the stables," He said and nudged them both off the bed, " Let me get dressed," 

The boys looked pleased with that and hurried out the door, chattering excitedly to each other. Ned steadied himself from his fit of giggles and turned to Cat. She had taken Sansa into her arms and was feeding her. She didn't meet his gaze but he could see that her eyes were both sad and angry and that her jaw was set and he understood why. 

" I'm sorry," He told her, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. He meant it. He was sorry that she had to believe this lie. He was sorry that all she knew was this lie. 

She did not seem to notice and busied herself with wiping the corners of Sansa's mouth. He wondered if she would ever forgive him for betraying her honour and if he told her the truth, would she forgive him for betraying her trust?

He took a breath, willing himself to say the words that will dispel this farce, he could trust her now. She will not tell Robert about it. She will not tell anyone of it. Then, he reminded himself that she would be punished if she was found guilty of knowing the truth. If she remained ignorant, she will be spared. He will not curse her with this burden. So he kept his silence and went to the dresser.

When he left the room, he had half a mind to send a raven to Howland as soon as he was done with the stable visit. Then, he realised that it will be unlikely for the bird to be able to find Greywater Watch and he cannot risk the letter falling into hands who were not meant to receive them. 

His heart sank. He was alone.


	3. iii

iii.

 

" What do you think?"

" Hm? About what?" 

" Do you think it will be a boy or a girl?"

Ned smiled and kissed her middle, " Mm.. A boy,"

" I think it will be a girl," She said, placing a hand over her belly.

" How can you tell?"

" I just know,"

He propped himself up onto his elbows, grinning, " It will be a boy,"

" For the last time, Eddard Stark," She sighed, amusement in her eyes, " It will be a girl, or do you wish to wager on it?"

" Mm..Wager on what, my lady?"

" If it is a girl, then..." She kissed his lips, smirking, before continuing in a whisper " I will get to decide on where, when and how for a month,"

Ned raised a brow, a grin breaking across his face, " And if it is a boy?"

" You will receive the same and exact terms,"

" I think we have an agreement, my lady," He took her hand and brought it to his lips, " We shall see in seven months. It will be a boy,"

 

\--

 

Another rebellion. Another war. 

Pyke was a miserable place. The smell of salt and spray and vomit was too strong and it was a different kind of cold here. The sea wind blew in relentless gusts around them, the sails flapped and cracked, the decks and ships creaked as they edged closer to shore. He could hear rocks scraping against the hull. 

They landed an hour ago and he was leading the main van into the castle as the southern wall came down. Thoros of Myr was first through the breach, his flaming sword; a torch, lighting their way. Robert was beside him. He was bigger now, his shoulders wider and he seemed a giant as he charged forward crushing armour, skulls and bones with every swing of his war hammer. 

Steel and blood became one and the same to him. Dodging left, bringing his sword low towards the knees, then an upwards arc, then down against the neck. Next, a straight thrust through the belly, gasp, dead. After, by luck he had escaped a hack aimed at his back, he spun and steadied himself; armour and mail, he saw. He parried and turned the axe, looking to unbalance his foe. Ned wore no shield but Ice served well in both defence and attack. 

He side-stepped the man as he brought the pole-axe down and slashed at his side, Valaryian steel cutting through the iron plate, the rings, and flesh like a hot knife through butter. The blood began to pool at their feet and Ned made a quick end to the ironborn with a clean cut through his throat. 

More died at the edge of his blade, more blood soaked his clothes, stained his armour. He felt heavy by the end, leaden and burdened by the time the battle drifted into a lull and when the shouts went up, declaring victory. He heard Robert's voice somewhere and made his way towards it. 

He thought of home then as he stepped through the blood slick stone. He thought of Cat, of Robb and Jon and Sansa and the daughter that he has not met yet. She was born only a week before, and he cursed himself for not being able to be there for his wife and for the birth of his daughter. Arya, she was named and he closed his eyes and tried to imagine her face. No, he told himself. It was not good. He will return to Winterfell and see her himself.

He remembered how Cat looked when he told her that Robert had called for aid and that he will have to ride to battle once more. She was torn he saw. Torn between allowing him to fulfil his duty as a Lord to his King and friend and imploring him to remain, in fear that he will repeat his mistakes as he did with the last war. There was also dread in her eyes as she knew that he was likely to be riding to his doom and that they will never meet again. But she pursed her lips into a thin line and reached up to kiss him before nodding and telling him to go. 

With that, Ned knew that she was trusting him again, and he promised that he will not betray her.

Robert stood in the hall, and Ned arrived in time to see Balon Greyjoy lift the crown from his brow and lower himself to his knees and swore his fealty to Robert. There was hate and scorn on the man's face but Robert accepted him and helped him to his feet non-theless. 

Ned spoke then, and told him that will not keep his vows. Robert argued that he would and called for the children of Balon Greyjoy to be brought forward. Ned knew that Balon had three sons and a daughter. He also knew that the elder of the three sons was killed at Seagard. The second was fighting out at the walls earlier, but he was not here now. Was he killed? What did Robert mean to do to the children? He remembered the two bundles of Lannister red, dripping in blood. No. Robert won't.

Robert yelled for the children once again and only then did a girl, no older than one and two step beside her father. Behind her was a boy, nine years old Ned deemed, glaring viciously at Robert. 

The King then ordered for the boy, Theon Greyjoy, be a ward, to be kept separate from his father and kin, to hold them to their oath and word. Robert turned to Ned and said, " He will go to the North and remain under the care of Lord Eddard Stark,"

 

\--

 

The sight of Winterfell greeted him just as it did six years ago, and he wondered if he had dreamt those years with Catelyn. He wouldn't be surprised if he had.

Theon Greyjoy scowled through the whole journey and Ned decided that any attempt from him to try and calm the boy would only make things worse. It will be best to let the boy come to it in his own time. He wondered if Robb will take to Theon as he did with Jon. He hoped that he would. Robb was far more friendly than Ned had ever been.

Benjen rode out to meet him, just as he did, but this time he did not return with him. He had taken his hand and hugged him and told him that he was going to go and take the Black, to go to the Wall and join the Night's Watch. Ned's smile faded then and he thought to protest, but when he saw the determination in his brother's eyes, he knew that it would not come to any good if he did. So he nodded and gave him his blessing as his brother and Lord and wrapped his arms around him again. The Night's Watch have fallen on bad times, but the Stark's have always supported the Order and Ned promised Ben that he will do whatever he can to help.

There was one less person to return to in Winterfell, and one more. 

His entire household had gathered in the courtyard and went to their knee as he passed through the gates. Ned dismounted and went first to his wife who held a grey woollen bundle in her arms. He helped her up and gave her a kiss, remembering himself and that he was in public a moment to late.

When they parted, Ned looked down and saw not Robb like he did so long ago, not a mess of red-brown curls and blue eyes staring at him, but a babe with grey eyes, like his, with a patch of dark hair. Arya.

She squirmed and made a face, looking as if she was about to cry, but the only sound she made was a soft burp. Her hands then got free of her swaddling clothes and reached upwards. Ned touched her hand and she grabbed his finger, gripping it tight. She was so small, he thought. 

Cat let him have her and he held her against his chest and asked her if she will receive him with a babe every time he returns from a war.

 

\--

 

Jon had taken to Arya almost immediately it seemed. He spent most of his days in Arya's nursery helping the nanny care for her. He even played with her when she was old enough to sit up and crawl after him. 

Arya was a handful. While she didn't cry as much as Robb did, she often fussed and struggled in her blankets, in her crib and in her mother's arms, but quieted easily when Ned held and rocked her. Cat grew easily frustrated whenever Arya was determined to be difficult, and Ned tried to help her in any way that he could. Sansa was barely over a year old and still required Cat's attention and time. She does not yet understand why she received less of those now, after Arya was born and was the reason why Ned thought that explained she was a bit more impatient and was easily upset by things now.

" Wolf's blood," He told Cat one day as he clapped his palm gently against Arya's back, " Brandon had more than his fair share of it while Lyanna had a touch, and so does Arya, it would seem," He smiled as the babe let out a hiccup and rubbed her eyes with a balled hand. Cat was not as amused by the idea as he was and Ned simply pinned it on that she was only used to fishes, not wolves ( Cat smacked him on the arm when he voiced that thought ).

Theon looked to be getting along well with Robb. They played in the yard often, and Robb seemed to treat him as any other person, not one who was a little more than a captive. Ned wondered how much he will be able to influence the boy. He knew that it was perhaps too late for that. Still, he sent Theon to learn from Maester Luwin alongside both Robb and Jon and had him sit with them at the dinner table.

Jon reacted differently to Theon. He kept away from him, and only played with him if Robb was around. It was only after a long while before Ned found the reason why. Theon had taken to calling him a bastard whenever Robb was not around. Jon was at the age where he understood the meaning of the word enough to be hurt by it and Ned knew that soon he will have to explain everything to him. 

 

\--

 

One morning, Ned offered to take Ser Rodrik's place as Robb and Jon's sword master for the day, and found that Jon was quicker and agile on his feet than Robb was, who, in fairness, was stronger and a bit more cunning when it came to finding openings. They were both seven years old now, and their breath came in white clouds as they laughed and huffed at each other in the yard. Ned told Jon for the fifth time to hold his wooden sword in one hand so that he would be able to build his strength in that arm, but the boy kept slipping back into a two hand stance. Finally, Ned relented and later told Ser Rodrik to prepare to train Jon with a two handed sword and teach him in all its skills and techniques, in addition to a single handed blade and shield. 

The old knight then gave him a strange and thin smile and said, " Like father, like son, i suppose," 

Jon was looking more and more like him that Robb was, further consolidating the lie and belief that Jon was his son. It was an easier burden to bear now, especially in public. He has learnt to ignore the whispers and the judgements against his honour. Even he begun to think Jon as his son, not his nephew. Sometimes he would forget that he was Rhaegar's flesh and blood, and almost believe that he did sire Jon. Then, just before the guilt could take hold him, he would shake his head and remind himself of the truth and scold himself for falling for his own lie.

Cat did not warmed to Jon as he had hoped. She tolerated the boy, albeit with cold regard. Ned had tried to talk to her about it, but all he achieved was making things worse. He hated himself for that, for leading her to believe that he did father Jon and that he cared for a bastard just as much as he cared for their trueborn children. 

Ned did his best to not show Jon too much affection in front of Cat and made every effort to soothe their relationship, but it did little good. Cat was stubborn, if nothing else. He loved that about her, yes, though it can be incredibly frustrating when it came to this matter. He knew that the only way to have her learn to love Jon, was if he told her the truth. 

 

\--

 

Today, Ned decided tat he was going to take both Robb and Jon to witness an execution. Cat protested, saying that they were just boys and that they should never see such things. Ned told her that he had seen his first beheading at that same age, Brandon and Benjen as well, " Our way is the old way," He told her, " It may be high summer now, but when Robb and Jon become men, it will be winter. They need to be ready, my lady," 

The man was a murderer as he was guided to the block and pushed down onto his knees. Theon, Robb and Jon stood several yards away with the horses, close enough, he deemed. Jory was there with him, and he lifted the scabbard that held Ice up to him. Ned pulled the Valryian steel from its sheath, " Seven days ago, you have murdered both Donnel and Jonelle of Deepwood Motte and you have fled when justice summoned you. You have been caught four nights ago and brought before a just court and found guilty of your crimes. Do you wish to say any last and final words?" The man spit at his feet and Jory cursed, shoving him onto the block. Ned ignored the act and continued, " In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of his Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, by the word of Eddard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, I do sentence you to die,"

Ice came down across the murderer's neck, cutting easily through bone and through flesh. It was quick. It was over. Ned returned Ice to its scabbard and stepped towards the boys and asked them why he did what he did. Robb was the one who spoke first and said that it was because the man murdered two others. Then Jon said that it was only fair for the man to die. Ned nodded at both answers before asking the question again, emphasising on the fact that he did it. Both shook their heads and Ned began to explain that a man who hides behind a paid executioner soon forgets what death was and that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword so that he will always remember the cost of life. 

When they returned to Winterfell, Ned took both boys to the Godswood. After each execution, after every battle, he would find himself seeking the solitude of the Old Gods. He would seek a Hearttree, and when he does, he prays for the life he had taken and prays that what he had done was right. He would sit under the weirwood for hours, absently cleansing Ice with the tree's blood red leaves. Today, however, he stayed for only an hour and left as soon as he sensed Robb and Jon beginning to feel bored and restless. He lead them back into the castle and had them eat their supper before sending them both up to their rooms.

That night, as he was tucking him in, Jon asked him about his mother. For a while, he was silent. Should he tell him about Lyanna? About Rhaegar? Or should he continue to deceive him? To have him remain in this lie? He knew that this question would be asked someday, he knew and he should have prepared and answer for it. But he hasn't. So, he kissed Jon on the brow, and said that he will tell him the answer once he is older and ready.

 

\---

 

" Father! Father!" Sansa chimed as she ran to him, her red curls bouncing behind her. In her hands she held a bunch of flowers, coloured in bright blues and reds, yellows and whites, the colours of summer, " Father, look!" She said as she stood on her toes, lifting the bouquet above her head, " I picked these for you!"

He reached down and took the flowers, bringing them up to his face to smell them, " These are sweet and beautiful, Sansa. Thank you," Sansa beamed up at him and smoothed her skirts before dipping her head and curtsying.

Ned then set the bouquet aside on his desk and scooped her up into his arms and tossed her up into the air and swung her around. She shrieked happily, laughing and giggling and when he finally stopped, Sansa hugged his neck and said, " Those flowers are very beautiful aren't they, Father?"

He smiled and kissed her cheek, " Yes, but not as beautiful as you,"

She mirrored his kiss and wrapped her arms around him tighter, " I love you, Father,"

" I love you too, sweet one," 

 

\--

 

Her hands were small in his palms, but her fingers were strong and gripped tight as he helped Arya up onto her feet. He guided her forward, one step, then another. Unsteady and unsure, her legs threatened to fold beneath her, but never did. She kept going, looking at the floor then looking up at him, smiling, as if pleased of her achievement. Slowly, slowly, she became more confident and carefully, Ned let her hands go and urged her to walk towards him. 

She frowned and stood there for a while before putting her left foot forward, then her right, then her left once again before falling forward into his arms. She giggled and began to babble excitedly at him. He gave her a kiss and set her back down onto the fur rugs. He then took a two paces back and held out his hands to her. She stared at him for a moment, and made to crawl towards him. Then, she paused and pushed herself up onto her feet. She swayed and wobbled, her hands stretched out as she tried to balance herself. Once she did, she started towards him, slowly, her eyes never leaving his. She took four steps and faltered, tears forming in her eyes, but before she could hit the ground, Ned rushed forward and caught her. 

" Shh..I will always be here to catch you, little one. Don't worry,"

 

\--

 

He put a hand on the swell at her belly and felt a light kick from beneath her skin, " There you are, Bran," He said, smiling and he turned to look at Cat, " He will be strong when he is grown. I just know it," 

She chuckled, agreeing, " Well, he is certainly eager to prove that to the world," Her hand settled on his and they both felt another kick, " He will be as kind and as just and as gentle as you are, my love,"

He straightened and reached up to kiss her, slow and tender, they lingered, " And ..what if it is a she?" He whispered against her lips when they parted.

Her eyes were bright, " Will you ever learn from when the discussion we had before Arya's birth?" 

" I don't mind being wrong," He grinned.

Cat bit her tongue, suppressing a laugh when she said, " Well, it will be a boy, and in the unlikely case that it is a daughter, she will be intelligent and well read,"

" And stubborn, of course, like you,"

" Maybe she will inherit your infuriating cheek as well," 

He smirked, " Oh, I know that you love my cheek, my lady,"

" Ned!" 

" What?" He said, feigning innocence as she slapped him on the arm, " You know you do,"

" You, my lord, are the most exasperating man on this earth," She cupped his face between her hands and pulled him in for another kiss.

 

\---

 

Cat finally woke after two days and the first thing she asked him was to see Bran. He obliged and moved their son into her arms. She smiled weakly at him and touched the babe's face. He had her hair and her eyes, like Robb and like Sansa, but he had his nose. 

Ned sat by her side and kissed her, relieved and thankful that she was allright. For the first time in many years, the thought of losing her came to him, gripping him, drowning him in fear. He was scared. What if the cost of giving life was too high for her now? He did not want to think of a life without her. What would he do? How would he be able to go through the rest of his life without her beside him? He did not want to think of that. She was safe now. She was awake now, and she will be well again. She and Bran. That was all that mattered.

Maester Luwin entered, bringing her tea and some broth. He examined her, and deemed that she was free from immediate danger and told her to rest. He then explained to them both that she should not bear anymore children, at least for a time, lest she will not survive giving birth to a fifth child. 

Later, they both agreed that Bran would be their last.

 

\--

 

Bran was quieter than the rest. He hardly ever cried and he spent most of his days sleeping and was easy to care for. Sansa had taken to being a mother to Bran, holding him and helping Cat with him whenever she could. Robb and Jon were curious as always, and were impatient for Bran to grow old enough to play with them. Eventually, even Arya came around and began to dote on her new brother. 

One day, both he and Cat came running to the nursery when they heard cries. Arya and Sansa had got into a fight over a toy and that had frightened Bran, who had begun to wail. Cat went to soothe the babe while Ned scooped both girls into his arms and carried them out to their room, hushing them and rubbing their backs.

" She started it!" Arya said between sobs.

" She pulled on my hair, Father! It hurt!" 

" It was my turn to play with Ser Knight!"

" No! He's mine!"

Ned set them down onto the bed that they shared, " Shh, shh. Don't fight anymore,"

" But Father, she was mean!"

" No! Sansa is! Sansa doesn't want to share! Sansa made Bran cry! "

" I did not! You did!"

Ned pulled them apart just as they were about to pull at eachother's hair again.

" Father i hate her!" Arya screamed her eyes red with tears, " I hate her!"

" No, no, Shh, both of you. You shouldn't hate her. You're sisters remember?"

" But i don't want to be!" Sansa scowled angrily.

" You're sisters, and no matter what nothing will change that," Ned said, " I will get another Ser Knight for you, Arya, so apologise to your sister, and Sansa apologise to Arya. Go on,"

Both glared at each other for a while before Arya rubbed her sleeve across her face and mumbled, " Sorry, Sansa,"

" Alright then," Sansa pursed her lips into a thin line and warily extended her hand to her, " I won't be playing with Balerion tomorrow. So you can have him for the day,"

 

\--

 

Somehow, Bran had learnt how to climb out of his crib and was soon crawling up and down the castle. Robb found it amusing to chase after the babe, crawling after him for hours and hours until Bran finally tires and is carried back into the nursery. He had also taken to repeating whatever Bran babbled and making faces at him, which entertained the babe to no end. 

Robb was growing into the role of the eldest and the first born of his family. He loved and looked after both his brothers and both his sisters and learnt his future duties quickly whenever Ned taught them to him. He did not complain or wish for a life other than the one he had. He was eager and accepted the burden of duty readily enough. He was ten years old now, soon, he will be a man, and that thought brought both pride and sadness to his heart. Has it really been ten years since that night in Riverrun? Since the start of the war? Time passed so quickly, too quickly. If he blinked, will he find himself old and grey when he opened his eyes?

Jon loved Robb, like any brother would, ( cousin; Ned reminded himself ) and was his closest and most loyal friend. They were rarely seen without each other and did almost everything together. Once, Ned saw Robb punch Theon Greyjoy and yell at him, to never call Jon a bastard again. Theon seemed to take that to heart, and if he ever called Jon bastard again, it was not within Ned's or Robb's hearing.

He remembered fearing that Jon will never be accepted amongst Ned's trueborn children, that he will be shunned and rejected, but he was wrong, and for that, he was glad. 

He wondered what Lyanna would think of Jon now. Would she have been proud of him? Happy for him?

No, she would be cursing herself for dying so young and shouting at the Gods to let her return to earth to care for her son.

Ned smiled. Now, that sounds more like her.


	4. iv

iv.

 

Summer was the warm sun. 

Summer was the bright rolling green fields and the splashes of colour across it. 

Summer was the sound of his children's laughter echoing into the room he shared with Cat through an open window. 

Summer was her kisses and her smiles and the blue in her eyes and red in her hair. 

Summer was love and life and he prayed for it to never end.

 

\--

 

He lifted Sansa off the ground and set her down onto the pony's back, " I'm scared, Father," She said as she bit her lip and gripped onto the leather saddle. It was her first time, and she had insisted on learning, but got nervous as soon as they brought the pony out from the stables, " Don't let go,"

" You will be fine, love," Ned smiled, " Remember what i said?"

" You will only fall if you think you're going to fall?"

" Exactly," Carefully, he pulled his hand away and moved to hold the reins, " Be brave, sweet one,"

" Okay," Her voice was small, " Slowly please, Father,"

" Of course," Ned started forward, gently urging the pony along around the yard, " Shh, I'm here Sansa, don't worry. I'm here. I won't let you fall,"

" Promise?"

" Yes," He looked over his shoulder and touched her hand, " I promise,"

 

\--

 

He lead her through the Wolfswood, riding beside her past the rocks and the trees. The birds were singing above them and the sun threw patches of sunlight across the forest floor. He had traded her dress for a pair of riding breeches, shirt and vest, and she wore them as easily as she wore any gown. 

She knew the way by heart now, and the last time they came here, they raced each other through the forest. She was a capable rider, he admitted when he lost, she was also lighter and had the faster of the two horses. 

This time, they took each step slowly, talking about the stories she had read, the stories he was told, the food they will have served during the harvest feast, Robb's refusal to do learn numbers and Arya's general refusal to do anything lady like. They spoke about tailoring a new wardrobe for Sansa and finding other babes of the same age as Bran for him to play with and the possibility of receiving Clay Cerwyn as a ward. Somewhere a wolf howled, but it was far off and Ned assured her not to worry. He touched the sword that hung on his hip all the same.

When they finally dismounted and arrived at the waterfall, it was already past noon. They set the basket down and laid the blankets out across the grass. They ate freshly baked soft bread with butter and strawberry jam. Then, they shared one half of a seasoned and roasted chicken and Ned poured some wine into the two cups they brought. 

Silence fell between them when they came to the biscuits and the apples, but that was allright. Eleven years have taught them that it was as good as when they are speaking. Some things did not need words to be said, they agreed. They lay together under a tree, her head resting against his chest as they listened to the wind and the water and the soft breaths of the other. There was beauty in this simplicity, he thought as he closed his eyes. Nothing needed to be said, nothing else needed to be done to show that he loved her.

Gods, he loved her.

 

\--

 

" I'm sorry, Lady Stark," Ned stopped and turned around, frowning when he heard Jon's voice. The boy sounded like he was on the brink of tears.

There was a sigh, frustrated and angry, " Just... Just clean it up,"

" What happened?" Ned asked when he entered. Then he saw the ornate mirror that had been a wedding gift from Hoster Tully to his daughter lying in pieces on the stone floor.

Jon's eyes grew wide when he looked up then he turned away, tears falling down his face despite his efforts to wipe them away. Cat shook her head and walked over to Ned. The caught each other's eye and Ned knew that she wanted him to talk to Jon. He nodded and let her leave before stepping towards Jon. 

He knelt down, taking one of the porcelain bowls from the tables and reached for the glass shards, careful to not cut himself on them, " No, Father. Let me, please. It was my fault. I'm sorry," Jon got down to his knees and swept the pieces with a hand into his palm. 

" Calm down, Jon. It's allright," 

" No it isn't. It's broken. It was a gift wasn't it?"

" Yes," He nodded and reached for a shard that strayed under the chairs, " And she loved it dearly,"

" Lady Stark hates me, doesn't she?"

Ned let out a breath, " It isn't your fault if she does, Jon. It's mine,"

" Why didn't you just.. leave me with my mother? Theon says that that was what men were supposed do when they father bastards,"

Ned looked to him, studying his nephew's face, " I brought you back to Winterfell.. because i wanted to make sure you were taken care of,"

" But can't you have just sent my mother money so that she will have enough to care for me?"

" Don't you like it here, Jon?"

" No- I mean. Yes, of course. I love being here, with Robb and with Arya and Bran, even with Sansa, but..."

Ned placed the glass into the bowl and wrapped his arms around Jon, " Cat doesn't hate you, Jon. Believe me, and one day, she will come to love you,"

" Did my mother love me?"

" She did. She loved you very much," 

" Is she still alive? May i see her one day?"

The faint smile on Ned's face faded, " One day, son. I will tell you about her,"

 

\--

 

" Ned, please. I can do that myself,"

" I know you could, my love," He said appearing from behind the partitions with two dresses, " But Maester Luwin told me to make sure you do not exert yourself needlessly. Are these the ones?"

" Yes, the- No, the one on the right, yes," She pushed herself up from the tub, reaching for a nearby towel and wrapping it around her body, " And I know that I shouldn't, but I don't need you coddling me,"

" Coddling? This isn't coddling," He brought the dress to her, " If this was coddling I would not have let you wash on your own,"

" Ned," She turned to him a touched his cheek, " Please, don't worry about me,"

" You not worrying is making me worry, Cat,"

She rolled her eyes, her lips curling upwards, " I will be fine,"

He let out a breath ad held her by the waist feeling the swell at her belly. Their fifth child. He made himself smile at her, " It's a boy. I'm sure of it this time,"

" Must we go through this again, my lord?" She smiled.

" Do you disagree?" 

" No," She reached to brush a thumb over his lips, " I think we will have three sons by the year's end,"

He kissed the top of her head and tucked a lock of wet hair behind her ear, " You are the most amazing woman in Westeros, Cat. I hope you know that,"

" And I hope you know that you are an excessive flatterer, my love," 

 

\--

 

Rickon cooed and stuck his tongue out at him, Ned did the same and when Rickon began to babble at him, Ned imitated the sounds exactly.

" He's a talkative babe isn't he?" Ned grins, lifting his gaze from Rickon to her, " I'm sure he'll start speaking properly very soon,"

 

She laughed, gathered her hair and pulled it up, twisting and tying it into a sort of loose bun, " Not if you keep speaking to him like that. Babes are supposed to copy their fathers, not the other way round," 

 

Ned grinned at that and rubbed his nose against Rickon's belly, causing the babe to burst into a fit of giggles.

Everything had gone well. Cat recovered from childbed quickly and Rickon was healthy and active. He made faces at everything and always seemed to have too much energy for such a small body. Bran spent the most time with his new baby brother, waving rattles and coloured ribbons above his face. Sansa, as always, was her mother's helper and she even knitted a pair of mittens and boots for Rickon. 

" Oops..," He chuckled when Rickon's hands escaped from his swaddling clothes and he struggled as he tried to wrap the blankets around them again. 

" Come, give him to me," She sighed, lips curled into a tired smirk as she hurried towards him, " He will be hungry again soon," 

Ned moved the babe into her arms and reached for his cloak, quickly fastening it about his shoulders. When he was done, he saw that Cat had suceeded in pulling the blankets and furs around Rickon's squiriming body, " Will you be long, my lord?" She asked before resuming her gentle humming to quiet her son.

" I will return by evenfall," He answered with a smile as he stepped towards her, " It is a simple visit to a bannerman. It will not take long, my lady," 

 

" Will you take Robb with you?"

 

He shook his head, " He says that Ser Rodrik will be teaching him how to properly counter an uppercut today,"

 

" If only he were more eager to learn numbers and histories as he is with swords," 

He only shrugged and bent down to kiss Rickon's brow before straightening up and kissing her on the lips. His hand then moved up to the back of her head and she quickly pulled away before he could tug at the ribbon that held her hair up, " Really, Ned?" She frowned, stifling a laugh, " Sometimes I wonder if you are more of a babe than Rickon," 

 

He loved to do that, to pick and undo her braids and anything else that held her hair up, so much so that it had become a kind of game between them. He remembered the first time he did that, that morning in Torrhen's square.

 

Ned chuckled softly before leaving another kiss on her cheek and brushing away her fringe from her eyes, " You always look better with your hair down, my love," 

 

\--

 

Six years old and already she was outrunning boys who were years older than her. Arya would sprint easily through every corridor in Winterfell and every street in Winter town when the others were already huffing and puffing a mile behind her. She would play in the rain and splash around in the mud, spend her days with the horses and play with the kennel dogs. She had also begun sneaking out of her classes with Septa Mordane to watch her brothers train with Ser Rodrik. 

When Ned caught her one morning, hiding behind a bale of hay, he asked her why she did not want to learn to sew. She said that it was stupid and that she didn't like it because the other girls would tease her on her messy stiches. Then, he asked if she would like sword fighting better and her face brightened almost instantly. 

He told her that he will speak to Cat and Ser Rodrik about this, and if she would behave and do her lessons with the Septa, she would be allowed to train with a sword for an hour or two every day. She frowned at that, but accepted it all the same. She was just like Lyanna, though he did not stop Arya from learning how to fight, unlike their father who was against Lyanna wielding a blade and forbade her from doing so. He hoped that Arya will not suffer the same fate as he aunt.

He sighed, mussing her hair and told her to go back inside and wash the dirt from her face, " And make sure your mother doesn't see that you have straw in your hair,"

 

\--

 

The fire was crackling softly in the hearth. The nights have been colder lately, and Ned had agreed to sleep in Cat's room downstairs. It was warmer here, and she was not yet used to the cold of the north, not after it has been ten years since it last snowed. 

He pulled her closer and let his face be buried in her hair. Summer was about to end, he thought, winter was coming, as the Stark words always said. They said that a long summer would bring about an even longer winter. He hoped that it wasn't true. He did not think Westeros would be able to survive a winter that will last for any longer than a decade. What about his own children? He remembered Old Nan's stories that spoke of the Long Night where children froze as soon as they are born. Rickon was only just a babe, only just learning how to walk and talk and understand the world around him. If winter came now, will he live through it and see the summer sun again? Ned will make sure that he does. He will make sure that all of them survive this winter.

There was a knock on the door and Ned turned his head while Cat began to stir beside him, " Come in," Ned said, and the hinges creaked as the door opened. 

Robb peeked his head through the door; holding Rickon in his arms, who twisted free of his brother and ran over to the bed, " Mama! Mama!"

" Rickon was crying. I think he had a bad dream," Robb said as he stepped inside. Ned straightened and sat up, helping Rickon climb onto the bed. 

" Father? Mother?" Came a small voice. Arya, " Can we sleep here tonight?" She asked as she pushed past the door. Behind her was Bran and Sansa, holding their blankets wrapped around them.

Cat smiled, hugging Rickon and soothing him, " Of course. Come here, little one. All of you. It's allright," 

They made some space between them, large enough for Arya, Bran and Rickon to squeeze through. Ned then looked to Robb who's cheeks turned red when he asked if he could join them as well. 

He settled at Ned's feet, while Sansa curled up at Cat's. Smiling, Ned lowered his head back onto his pillow and pulled the furs closer around Bran, but before he could let sleep take him, another creak came from the door.

" Jon," Ned smiled faintly at the boy before glancing over to Cat. She saw him too, a slight frown appearing on her face, but she did not speak. Instead she nodded and returned her attention to Rickon. Ned let a breath out and said to Jon, " Come in. There is still some room," 

Jon blinked at him and hurried in, carefully closing the door behind him before padding over to the bed and climbing up onto the mattress. He laid between Robb and Sansa and bid Arya a whispered good night when she gave a loud yawn. Eventually, Rickon quieted and Cat gave him to Ned, where he fell asleep against his chest. 

The fire had died now, but Ned did not want to move, knowing that he would wake Robb if he did. But they didn't need the fire now, he thought as he looked around him, because his family was here. 

He sighed, contented, turning to see Cat had fallen asleep once again. 

She was beautiful.

And he loved her. 

He closed his eyes and let the soft breaths of his wife, his children and his nephew lull him to sleep.

One day, he vowed, they will know the truth. 

But tonight, he let them dream.


End file.
